


The First Hint

by Phoenexus



Series: Defector [1]
Category: Jackscepticeye - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Blood and Injury, Character Death, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jack is a rebel, M/M, Mark is an Engineer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 16:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10574931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenexus/pseuds/Phoenexus
Summary: "With Amy there, at least he’d have someone to carry this burden with him. He’d ask her what to do in the morning and they would take on this task, together."Mark lives in the Above, a set of government mechanical floating islands that sit over the Below. He's tired, exhausted from the Civil War between the two parts of the land and he's not even the one fighting. He takes care of making the weapons for the Above with a comfortable, well-paying job. However, he can't bring himself to complete this task.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh! So I had been reading a bit of fanfiction on here and kinda wanted to test the waters. So this is my first fanfiction on here and maybe the first one that I've ever planned to do a series of! It was inspired by Defector by Muse.
> 
> Sadly this part doesn't really feature good ol' Jackspedicey yet, but next chapter he'll make an appearance, don't worry. *wink wonk*
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy…

It had been a long day. The hours fell together after a while as the sun rolled over the sky and into the windows. Mark sat with his head in his hands, his eyes drooping and then snapping open in a lazy attempt to keep awake but not to move fully. When Mark’s head finally dropped to the desk with a large thud, he shot upwards and looked out to attention. A voice behind him laughed lowly. Mark turned.

“Good to see someone today,” Mark smiled sheepishly as he rubbed his head. “It’s been awful lonely since everyone got wasted last night and didn’t bother to show up to work.” Mark chuckled at the thought of his co-workers getting drunk of expensive wine and the awfully catchy music playing in the grand hall. With the success of beating down the rebels of the Below last week with the weapons made in this very building, there were many parties. Everyone was giddy and happy, yet Mark hadn’t taken even a sip of alcohol. There was always something at the back of his mind.

To respond to Mark’s comment, the man simply shook his head with a smile. “What are you doing in here anyway Tyler?” Mark asked afterwards.

“To hear what you think of the plan,” Tyler spoke with a falling face. Mark’s fell as well, his eyes returned to the paper at his desk. He swallowed as his eyes skittered across it, as if he were dipping his toes in but deciding the water was too cool and pulling out quickly. He stopped reading it mid sentence.

“I haven’t fully thought about it,” Mark simply said without looking directly into Tyler’s eyes. The man, Tyler, nodded and ran a hand through his short, curly hair. His lips were pursed and his eyes disapproving. He clasped his hands behind his back and he moved closer to Mark’s chair.

Mark swallowed under the stare of the commander. It wasn’t often that he saw Tyler since he got the position almost a half a year ago, but when Mark did it wasn’t uncommon for him to be so stern and serious. Mark nervously adjusted his glasses and ran a hand through his messy black hair. Since he had been so busy with Tyler’s numerous projects and demands, he hardly had anytime to eat, shit or even take a shower, let alone to style his hair to perfection.

“I would not be asking for it to be done if it weren’t necessary.” Tyler’s voice was sharp, edged and ready to strike if Mark disagreed. Mark however couldn’t bring himself to respond and insist that he’d do what he was ordered to. In response to the silence, Tyler moved once more, this time to Mark’s side and peered down at the paper himself.

“Bomb to be designed for Copperston Quarter,” Tyler read outloud with a monotone voice. “Due in two weeks.” Tyler looked at Mark one last time, his expression clearly demanding. Mark swallowed once more, unable to meet Tyler’s eyes or speak. Tyler clicked his tongue.

Though this wasn’t the first time Mark had to make a weapon that could be used to kill, this was the first time he had ever been expected to make a bomb. Let alone a bomb as devastating as what the paper required. Not only would it create an explosion, but also a cloud of noxious gas that could spread for miles upon miles. It could consume half the cities of the Below, not touching the Above, where Mark was safely tucked away from the raging civil war.

Mark shivered in his seat despite the heat of summer in the desert. He turned to speak to Tyler, but the man had already left the scene. Mark combed a hand through his hair once more and removed his glasses to rub his eyes to prevent them from falling asleep. He forced himself to read the blueprints and commands given to him.

Hours passed before Mark allowed himself to be torn away from his work. With failing vision and a slipping ability to stay awake, Mark groaned as he stood to his feet and wandered out the door after turning the light off. The small room over-crowded with gears, tools and machine scraps faded to black with only the soft glow of the moon rays through the window. He glanced one last time over it all and then with a satisfied nod, he shut the door softly, careful not to disturb the rubbish within.

Down the dark, night shrouded hallways he walked with a tension in his chest. Nerves. They ate at him as he thought back to the page, to the requirements he’d have to meet in the morning when he’d be able to work without slipping into unconsciousness. He took a deep breath as his shoes made soft clicks along with hard flooring.

The walls were so dark and only lit by slow pulsating blue lights from above. Everything was cast in a solemn blueish glow turning the grey walls to a navy-obsidian mixture and highlighting the exhaustion on Mark’s face. He really was tired, mentally and physically.

He turned left and right and then right once more until he found the workers’ living quarters. His door was to the left and he fumbled with the key to turn it open. Mark opened the door with a yawn and shut it with a thud behind him. He winced at how loud it was for fear he’d wake the other person staying here. He continued into the house with aware footsteps.

A small figure slept curled on the couch half underneath a star filled blanket. She was hugging a pillow in her arms and a hint of a smile graced her face. She was peaceful in her rising and falling of her chest and Mark’s anxiety melted away to the back of his head. With Amy there, at least he’d have someone to carry this burden with him. He’d ask her what to do in the morning and they would take on this task, together.

Mark moved a strand of blonde hair out of her face and gave her a kiss on her head. When she didn’t stir, Mark knew that she had been asleep for a while. He gently scooped her up in his arms, careful not to wake her. He walked into the tiny bedroom and laid her on the bed softly, tucking her in as if she were a sleeping child. He changed into more comfortable clothes and slid in next to her, where he fell into an easy sleep.

– ✴ –

High pitched pain rang out and Mark shot upwards without thinking as he woke up with a start. The screams engulfed the apartment and kept getting shallower, more desperate and farther away. Mark was running, racing out and flinging the door open, not even bothering to close it. He caught a glimpse of a soldier carrying someone in their arms, but they turned before Mark could catch up. Amy.

The thought hit him like a sledgehammer, knocking the breath out of him. But his body wouldn’t stop and he was still running, now faster than ever and with a desperation in each step. Each foot rang out like a call for help, a hope that she was still reachable or that this was a very vivid dream. No, nightmare. He turned the corner, following the soldier. He then felt the butt of a gun launched into his cheek.

He hit the ground with a groan and was on his feet as if the wind hadn’t been knocked out of him. His breathing was heavy, feverous and angry and he went to push back whoever had dared to stop him. His eyes meet darkening, narrowed ones and Mark shrunk away despite every once of his core telling him to fight. Fight for Amy, fight for himself. Fight for the goddamn people Below that would be killed if he followed Tyler’s instructions.

Instead of saying anything to Mark right away, Tyler gave Mark a sharp nod and began to lead him back to his apartment. Mark had no choice but to follow as he looked behind Tyler to see a rather dangerous-looking soldier cocking his gun and turning to follow the two of them closely. Mark turned back forwards and walked in silence, his arms folded into his chest to prevent him from attacking violently.

Finally, moments from Mark’s apartment door, Tyler spoke slowly and commandingly, “I hope that you now realize what you have to do.” Mark stood in his doorway without speaking, so Tyler continued. “This is only a warning, next time it will be someone else.” Mark’s chest was filled with the anxiety from earlier that night and as he turned, launching a punch into Tyler’s face, the anxiety mixed with pure rage bubbled over.

Everything reacted so quickly, Mark could only be left in surprise as the soldier came forwards and hit Mark in the stomach with the gun. The sickening thud threw him to the ground onto his knees and then as the blows kept coming, Mark found himself face first in the hard, white floor that was beginning to turn red. His nose was bleeding as his face was rammed into the ground again and again and again and once more and again. The pain engulfed him, but it was nothing compared to the dread of what he knew he had caused in his stupidity.

His back ached and his face was a dull numbness when the beating stopped. Tyler stood over Mark and leaned down to look at the damage. He clicked his tongue and stood up with a turn to the soldier. Mark could see him nod and give a sharp command in a harsh voice and the edge in his eyes. Mark, defeated and miserable, gave out an anguished cry. Tyler looked down with almost pity covered with a blanket of contempt.

“I hope that you are pleased with yourself,” Tyler responded. Mark noticed the small stream of blood trickling from his nose and couldn’t help making a pursed smile. Tyler ignored it and turned with a graceful yet powerful motion of his black coat tails. Tyler left with a thundering march, followed by the soldier who wouldn’t look at Mark.

Mark rose to his feet, shocks of pain rising in his bruised legs and his head thundering with a coming migraine. He felt like he would be sick if he didn’t lay down soon. So slowly he turned to the door and hobbled through it, barely shutting it before, he collapsed against it.

It was then that he allowed himself to finally break down into tears of grief.

– ✴ –

It had been a week of avoided eye contact, shuffling along and insisting that everything was perfectly normal and Amy was just sick at the moment.

“That’s why you haven’t seen her,” He shrugged it off. “She’s gotten the flu is all.” With his nervous laughter, he hardly convinced anyone, but they let him have it. He looked to be falling apart.

His hair was never combed back, always hanging in his line of vision. His glasses were smudged, sometimes even forgotten at home, to which Mark mumbled that he didn’t need them and squinted through a project, barely doing it correctly.

People were worried when his eyes were no longer soft but defensive. When his beard became slightly more scruffy and he had bags under his eyes. People began telling him to take a break, to relax and get some rest. Mark only responded with a gruff grunt and continued as if they hadn’t said anything.

Everything was off.

So here Mark was after a long day of work heading back to his messy apartment with shaking hands and eyes sick of crying. The hallways were still cold, but the blue light seemed to hit him harder these days. Despite it being summer, Mark found himself shivering and wishing that the mechanic uniforms had long sleeves to go along with the turtleneck aspect to it.

Mark fumbled with his keys to open the door and finally dropped them at his feet when he couldn’t find the right one. He swore under his breath and went to pick it up. He found himself noticing a package he hadn’t seen before. Huh. Well, he picked it up and opened the door swiftly with one hand and entered. The door was shut softly behind with his foot.

The package was pristine in a brown cardboard box that had been handled delicately. From his brother maybe? But that was unlikely for then the box would be scratched and slightly dented from the long quest it would’ve had to embark upon. Mark reached for a knife and cut it open, carefully not to damage what was inside.

Inside was a pale yellow box, the only imperfection being a small drop of blood in the corner that was smudged in an attempt to clear it away. Mark swallowed and eyed it for a while. Amy. The name popped into his head again and he felt tears that he had thought had dried up threaten to spill over. He removed the lid tenderly as he began to think.

Amy. Would she be returning soon? It’s unclear how far Tyler would go to prove a point to Mark that he needed to obey. Tyler was one for rules, regulations. Anything that he said would be taken care of with the utmost care and priority, even something as gruesome and horrible as Mark would have to do.

However, Mark had known Tyler for years, had grown up together and had many pleasant memories when they were kids playing Below. He couldn’t look back without feeling a tinge of regret. If Mark hadn’t turned down the invitation to study Above like Tyler, things would be different. Maybe he would never have met Amy or maybe she’d be by his side in a beautiful golden-white mansion in the sky. Maybe on their own private floating paradise, nothing like this place of hallways and machines that whirred in the night. Anxiety wasn’t the only thing that kept him from getting enough sleep after all.

Avoiding a glance at the blood stain, he popped open the lid and peered inside. He sucked in a breath. He couldn’t bring himself to touch the contents that were unclean, still partially covered in blood.

Several teeth, all with the roots still intact and all a mess of blood, and a single severed ear sat among a pleasantly bright blue cloth. The mixture of the primary colors, blood red, sky blue and sunny yellow, made Mark’s stomach twist uncomfortably. He couldn’t turn away without letting his shoulders fall from the loss of hope. Amy was gone.

He took the little cloth in his hand, careful and with a wince of discomfort, and went to a planter box with a small, newly planted bunch of flowers. He began to dig into the dirt and placed the small package in a hole beside the forget-me-nots and daisies Amy had bought in order to brighten up the dull blackness that was standard for every apartment in the building. He found himself staring into them, thinking of her. For the first time since she left him, her memory didn’t bring tears. Only the thought of revenge graced his mind.

If he were to lose his future, his love of his life, well it was time for Tyler to lose something important to him too. Mark glared back at the yellow package and rose to his feet with a seriousness about his steps and began to gather various objects for his journey. It was time to leave.

It wasn’t long until he had a backpack full of necessities and his hand was on the doorknob. He then looked down at his shirt and glared at the symbol on his chest, the black northstar that stood for Mark’s source of unhappiness. He dropped his hand and his backpack and grabbed a new dark brown shirt and a black cape. His eyes skirted around the room, wondering if he had forgotten something. Nothing. He gave his home one last look over.

No, it wasn’t his home. Home was Amy and Amy was dead.

Mark raised the maroon scarf around his neck so that it covered his nose and mouth. With a final solemn look, he was out.

– ✴ –

Mark found himself skirting around the guards with much more ease than he would’ve otherwise imagined. He almost thought they were letting him go, but then remembered they needed him. That they needed that bomb in a week. They needed him desperately.

Mark crept in the shadows behind a yawning guard. She was hunched forwards slightly so that she could lean on her long rifle like gun. Clearly she was in charge of attacking those from the sky. No one was prepared to fight anyone trying to escape the actual floating island, which caused Mark to relax the tension that was building again.

Mark continued to hide in the shadows until the guards began to move. They changed every five hours and Mark decided to use this to his advantage. He was sprinting forwards as the guards lazily left and the next shift began to get their coffee and wake up so they could tackle any danger that most likely wouldn’t come.

He raced to the plane nearest to the edge of the floating island, a light fighter that blended into the night sky. Perfect. Mark opened the door, which was unlocked as it always was. Why? Coincidence? Fate? Nah. Mostly laziness from guards expecting no one would dare to steal a plane since they had such comfortable lives up here, better than those of the Below.

Once inside the aircraft, Mark reached up to adjust his glasses. They weren’t there. Shit. He couldn’t see where everything was and he didn’t want to risk turning on the lights fully to see all the buttons.

Furthermore, Mark realized how long it had been since he had flown. Too long. Yet, here he was pulling a throttle and then the wheel back. He was lifting off and taking to the sky without another thought.

Shakily with lots of thrust, he rocketed forwards into the open air. It was a clear night without a cloud, making it easy for the plane to balance out and begin to fly away from the island. Mark relaxed into the hard pilot seat.

“Heh… easy so far,” Mark thought to himself outloud. It was a hollow comment and was only true for a few more moments. The guards looked up as the plane thundered off the island. They cried out loud, shouted and pointed and began to fire bright red warning flares and bullets towards Mark. He dodged and dodged while still trying to escape. It was exhausting.

He dodged to the left, to the right and even looped upwards and down all to the rhythm of the bullets firing around. He could hardly make out anything in the darkness around him, but his body seemed to know what to do and prevented any harm from coming to him. Mark smiled despite himself and looped around the island.

His relief was short lived for he heard the dreaded roar of other engines coming to life. Mark pulled another throttle to add more speed and began to run away in any direction.

The direction turned out to be down as he began to spin downwards and downwards without control. A terrified shout escaped Mark’s lips and he was freefalling, unable to do much but clutch the steering wheel and pull upwards with all his might.

As he edged towards the desert below, it finally worked! He pulled up slightly for a brief second of relief.

Then the ground made contact with the back wheel and the plane crashed into the ground. Mark was thrown forwards against the seat belt that snapped in two from the force. He cried out before hitting the glass windshield. Blackout.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't promise when the next part will come out since life is hectic and unpredictable, so be prepared for spastic updates in the future.
> 
> Have a nice day!


End file.
